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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24261466">Waltz for Venus</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emberstreak/pseuds/Emberstreak'>Emberstreak</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cowboy Bebop (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cowboy Bebop - Freeform, F/M, Original Character - Freeform, Post canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:47:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24261466</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emberstreak/pseuds/Emberstreak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months after the Red Dragon was disbanded, leaving Spike free of the crime syndicate. With Vicious dead and nowhere to call home, Spike rejoins the Bebop. </p><p>After a few fights and after Faye damages the Red Tail, the team is forced to visit Venus and the home of the Swordfish II's creator, Doohan. But he isn't alone. </p><p>The team also meets an old apprentice of Doohan, a mechanic named Amber. </p><p>Amber works for NASA... at least, she used to.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Give me all the platonicness of the bebop crew, Spike Spiegel/Original Female Character, bebop crew, spike spiegel/original character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this on a whim. This will probably be a longer fic because I have no idea how to not write long fics, apparently. </p><p>I literally just wrote this because I love Spike. So I created an OC who is basically just me, except has a different name and works as a mechanic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re kidding me? Space pirates?”</p><p>Her blue eyes closed as she laughed, cranking the wrench she was holding in her right hand ten times counter-clockwise.</p><p>“Yup, you heard right! Space pirates,” boasted the young man standing beside her, hands on his hips. “And that wasn’t even the best part —” Miles would go on for hours if you let him.</p><p>The girl snorted, from beneath the small silver spacecraft, letting him finish. “I was just teasing you, Miles. I believe you. But really, you guys didn’t die?”</p><p>Miles grinned down at his friend as she slid out from beneath the ship, making sure she was far enough away from the undercarriage before sitting upright. As she sat up, she wiped sweat from her forehead, smearing grease across her skin in the process.</p><p>The sun was high in the sky, being the peak of noon and parked in the middle of the blazing desert of Venus. It probably wasn’t the best idea to start working on a ship at high noon in the scorching heat, wearing full on mechanic garb: blue jumpsuit and all.</p><p>Amber sighed, stretching her arms high above her head as she took a look at Miles, hoping the scowl hanging across her lips would convince him to shut up.</p><p>But it never did.</p><p>Miles wasn’t very tall, even shorter when he stayed perched on a stool for most of the morning, jabbering in Amber’s ear about... whoever the fuck Spike Spiegel was and Miles’ adventure with him about six months ago.</p><p>It was the greatest thing the young mechanic-in-training had ever seen! And he refused to let his “senior advisor” hear the end of it.</p><p>Amber rose to her feet, cracking her shoulders and neck, and trying to crack her back against the Red Tail, but failing to do so as she leaned against the ship’s hood.</p><p>“Miles, why don’t you make yourself useful and go get me a glass of water.” It was more of a demand than a question.</p><p>Miles’ eyes lit up, practically shimmering beneath the bright sunlight. “Will you let me help you work on the ship if I do?” He leaned forward on his stool, and Amber hoped he wouldn’t tip himself too far and topple over.</p><p>“Maybe.” She bit her bottom lip, rethinking the statement. “Only if there’s ice in that glass of water.”</p><p>If his eyes could sparkle any brighter, they would have. A wide grin pressed to his lips, and he was gone in a matter of seconds, disappearing into the garage where he and Doohan — the mechanic he worked under — lived.</p><p>Amber was Doohan’s apprentice before Miles, but only for a few years. She quit when she got a better offer at a space travel company located on Mars. As much as she enjoyed listening to the old man bicker about new technology taking over the old, she couldn’t pass up the offer to work for NASA as a mechanic-in-training.</p><p>Of course, the mechanics fixing the ships at NASA noticed Amber’s high level of skill and had her working on larger projects right away: rockets, space shuttles, even a few planetary rovers — but those were done in teams, with multiple engineers working alongside her.</p><p>She’d come back to the expansive desert of Venus where Doohan had his garage about six months ago. According to the grouchy old fart, he expected people who wanted him to fix their ships would come to him — if they really wanted his business, they’d make the trip.</p><p>That had been his motto since Amber worked for him, and likely for countless others before her time.</p><p>Another thing about Doohan Amber couldn’t quite put her finger on was his evasion to move forward. He hated, absolutely hated, new technology. He refused Miles’ attempts to try and convince him to add a new, more capable computer system into the Red Tail... one benefitting both the pilot and the mechanic fixing the ship.</p><p>“Do you want to hear more about the guy who drives the second Swordfish” Miles asked, an eager look in his eye she wished so deeply to ignore. “Or would you rather hear about the Blue Sox?”</p><p>Having no interest in either, she dismissed his enthusiasm with a wave of her hand, taking the glass of water with the other.</p><p>“No, I’m good.” She wrapped her knuckle against the ship’s left wing. “When’s the owner of this hunk of junk coming to pick it up anyway?”</p><p>“Right now,” said a gruff voice.</p><p>Amber jumped, practically shivering as she turned to meet the jet-black gaze of the Red Tail’s owner.</p><p>Jet Black was a tall man, with distinguished muscles beneath his sleeveless blue vest. He looked like the type who always wore the same clothes, plain and boring. But his prosthetic arm caught Amber’s interest.</p><p>Rather than geeking out over the older form of technology, Amber winced, rubbing her left arm. She didn’t regret what she said, just that she had been caught.</p><p>“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” she said.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” Jet said, holding a hand out to her. “My name’s Jet. Is Doohan around? I’ve got an old friend who’s here to see him.”</p><p>“Old friend?” Amber questioned, clasping Jet’s non-prosthetic hand.</p><p>Her interest was quickly overshadowed by Miles’ curiosity as he bounded forward, practically shoving her out of the way.</p><p>“Long time no see, Jet. I was disappointed when you dropped off the Red Tail last night without saying a single word — I wanted to see if Spike was around.” Miles spoke quickly as Jet quirked an eyebrow, looking from Miles to Amber, hoping she could translate his fast-paced words.</p><p>“Miles, repeat that again, but slower, please.” Amber blinked at her friend, sighing as she slipped the wrench into her pocket.</p><p>“Is Spike with you?” he asked simply, meeting Jet’s bewildered stare.</p><p>Jet blinked. “He’s sleeping back on the Bebop. You can go inside and see him, if you want.”</p><p>Miles was ecstatic, another bright grin plastered to his face. Amber watched in slight amusement as he all-but bounded onto the giant, spacious ship.</p><p>She whistled, removing her goggles from the top of her head, pulling her light brown hair free from its low ponytail in one swift motion as her and Jet stared up at the ship, he called the Bebop.</p><p>“So, this is the infamous Bebop?” Amber asked, sliding her goggles into one of her pockets.</p><p>“That’s right,” Jet beamed, a small smile passing over his usually stony complexion.</p><p>He looked so hard and rugged... though, this was the first time Amber had laid eyes on the black dog from the Inter-Solar System Police (ISSP). She thought about mentioning Jet’s retirement from the ISSP but knew better. He probably didn’t want to talk about it anyway.</p><p>When Jet’s smaller ship, the Red Tail, was dumped on Doohan’s doorstep the night before, Amber questioned the drop off. She’d seen ships like the Red Tail — but silver and yellow were an odd colour combination... not exactly what she would call complimentary.</p><p>“Now that’s what I call a fine piece of machinery,” Amber said, hoping Jet would laugh.</p><p>“Unlike this old piece of shit, right?” He tapped the hood of the Red Tail, peering in through the glass at the cockpit. Nothing was wrong with the inside, other than the fact that it could only fit one person, but it was designed for solo missions.</p><p>Amber rubbed the back of her head. “Yeah, sorry about that. If you want, I can install a new communicator in it for free. The old one was acting glitchy earlier.”</p><p>Jet blinked, again. His brain appeared to be short-circuiting, in a sense. And Amber couldn’t quite figure out what wasn’t connecting. “Wait, you fixed the engine?” Jet asked, scratching his bald scalp.</p><p>“Yeah. Surprised?” Amber folded her arms over her chest, leaning her hip against the left wing of the ship. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, wiping the sweat from her face with it, evidently smearing more grease across her cheeks and forehead.</p><p>“No — I just —"His lips quirked at the corners. “Uh, you’ve got a little —”</p><p>Amber swore, pulling her black gloves off using her teeth. “Grease?” she finished for him. “Always happens.” She took the gloves and stuffed them into the same pocket as her handkerchief. “Want to take a look?” She tapped her knuckle against the ship’s hood.</p><p>Jet shook his head, placing his hands back on his hips. “No need. I trust your work, little lady. Are you Doohan’s apprentice, too?”</p><p>Amber shrugged her shoulders. “Not anymore. I worked under him for a couple of years, and then I was offered another job on Mars.”</p><p>“Are you from Mars?” Jet asked, taking another look inside his ship to make sure nothing was damaged.</p><p>Amber shook her head. “I was born on Earth, actually.”</p><p>Jet lifted his head, slightly baffled, but curious, nonetheless. Not a lot of people were from Earth nowadays. “How’d you end up all the way out here?”</p><p>She grinned. “I just told you.”</p><p>Realizing that he was asking too many questions, and probably making Amber uncomfortable, he chuckled to himself, glancing over at the Bebop. He turned back at the sound of Amber unzipping the upper half of her coveralls, revealing a loose-fitting tank top underneath. As he watched Amber’s small but nimble fingers wind an elastic around her thick strands of hair, he asked her name.</p><p>“Oh, sorry. I forget to introduce myself to customers most of the time. They usually talk to Doohan, so I just keep quiet while they do.” She sunk her hands into the lower pockets of her coveralls. “My name’s Amber. Nice to meet you, Jet.”</p><p>“You too, Amber.”</p><p>Just as the two shook hands for the second time that afternoon, Doohan stepped out of his garage, holding a coffee mug in his right hand and a stern glare in his eyes. “Jet Black,” he muttered. “Didn’t expect you back so soon.”</p><p>“Nice to see you, too, Doohan.”</p><p>The old man took a sip of his black coffee. “Where’s that apprentice of mine?” He was referring to Myles.</p><p>“He’s in the Bebop bothering Spike,” said Jet.</p><p>“So, who is Spike exactly?” Amber questioned, sounding more interested than she intended.</p><p>Jet sighed, muttering, “A pain in my ass, that’s what he is.”</p><p>Doohan took another sip of coffee. “Why don’t you ask him yourself.”</p><p>Amber blinked at her former teacher, scrunching up her face as the tall shadow of a man loomed behind her. Instinctively, she jumped back, quickly retrieving the wrench from inside her pocket and wielding it as a weapon, spinning to face the stranger. She brought clenched fist back, aiming to strike his temple.</p><p>Unfortunately for the mechanic, her opponent was faster, and fluid — like the glass of ice water she’d long since abandoned on the stool sitting beside the Red Tail.</p><p>He grabbed her wrist, reacting on pure instinct rather than ill-will. His firm hand grasped her wrist, and, in one swift motion, he stepped forward, flipping Amber’s body over his shoulder and onto the fresh earth beneath them.</p><p>As Amber collided with the sand, a small cloud of dust blew up, the feeling of someone pressing their palm into her shoulder to hold her down and the silhouette of a man with fuzzy dark brown hair were the only things she noticed as a long face took shame above her. That and the fact he was crouched over her, brown eyes staring into her blue. He blinked a couple of times before releasing his grip, rising to his feet and dusting the dirt off his yellow dress shirt.</p><p>“Remind me to never ask you to be my dance partner,” he said offhandedly, sneering at Amber’s bedraggled appearance as she lay on the ground, stunned.</p><p>“Who’s a pain in your ass, Jet?” he barked over his shoulder.</p><p>“Wait!” Amber cried, jumping to her feet in an instant, pointing an accusing finger at the newcomer just as Miles rushed out of the Bebop. “You’re the guy Miles keeps yapping in my ear about?”</p><p>A smug smirk crossed Spike’s lips as he lowered his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. “Depends on who’s asking.”</p><p>Amber was completely dumbfounded. All answers and everyone’s reactions pointed to the obvious fact: this guy standing in front of her in all his stupid, fuzzy-haired glory was Spike Spiegel.</p><p>“Me. I’m asking,” she answered automatically.</p><p>“I can see that,” Spike chuckled, leaning down to get a better look at Amber’s face.</p><p>His eyes scanned her like a viper sizing up its prey — except Spike didn’t have eating her on his mind.</p><p>His examination started at her black, steel-toed boots, moving up to her baggy coveralls, noting the multiple patches of grease staining the bright blue material that brought out her greyish-blue coloured eyes. When his gaze reached her shirt, he quickly lifted his attention to her face, landing on the numerous black stains dotting her cheeks and forehead.</p><p>Spike took Amber’s face in his left hand before she could react, running his tongue over the tip of his right thumb at the same time. He wiped the same thumb across her forehead in an attempt to get the grease off. “You’ve got a little grease... all over your face,” he stated with another smirk.</p><p>Amber’s pale cheeks lit up with colour as she placed a palm to her forehead, glaring into Spike’s eyes, eyebrows furrowing. “You — You — that’s gross!” She fought the urge to slap him across the face.</p><p>“Someone had to clean you up,” he said, clearly amused at her disgust.</p><p>Without so much as an introduction or further questioning, Amber breezed by the men, disappearing with a low growl into the garage.</p><p>That sorry excuse for a human was Spike?!</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm not super keen on learning about space travel and I literally can't remember all the shit I learned about space throughout my 12 + years in public school. So you all get what I dish out, even if it is wrong. </p><p>I also don't know anything about space crafts like the Swordfish and the Red Tail, given they're made up, but everything I say about them is most likely pulled from nowhere and I don't really care or not. </p><p>But I'll try to keep the technical crap as accurate as I can find answers to.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Amber ran her fingers through her long brown hair as she twisted the shower knob with the opposite hand, shutting the water off. She dressed just as quickly as she had scrubbed herself free from the multiple grease marks and unwarranted snark from the shameful bounty hunter Spike Spiegel.</p><p>Amber had nothing against bounty hunters in the slightest, it was just the foul-mouthed ones she couldn’t stand — though her lack of interaction with people working under the title of “bounty hunter” probably had something to do with her distaste.</p><p>Sighing, she swept the towel away from her neck and tousled her hair with it, humming a quiet tune to herself as she exited the bathroom. The sun wasn’t high in the sky anymore, though only about two hours had passed. Amber had spent fifteen of those hours in the shower.</p><p>Stepping her small bare toe into the kitchen, her indifferent sighing was lost, transforming into an annoyed scowl. Her eyes narrowed, glaring daggers at Doohan’s two houseguests — make that three; a woman with a short purple bob had joined them and she was sitting on top of the kitchen counter.</p><p>She was wearing a yellow headband, a cropped yellow sleeveless top and equally yellow shorts. She also had pink thigh high stockings creeping up her finely-toned calves and a red sweater draped lazily around both of her forearms.</p><p>“Oh,” Amber bristled, removing the towel from her already messy hair, “it’s you.”</p><p>Spike caught Amber’s eye, another sly smile coming to his lips. “Were you expecting somebody else? So sorry to disappoint you, Amber.” The way her name fell off his lips mad her seethe. But, this time, she made sure to control herself, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d dug his way under her skin.</p><p>Taking a deep breath, Amber calmed herself, pressing a tight-lipped smile to her face. “I was just surprised to see you both still here. Do you need help loading the Red Tail onto the Bebop?” She looked passed Spike, eyes wandering into Jet’s direction.</p><p>Jet shook his head. “Already taken care of.”</p><p>The abrupt feel of fingertips brushing Amber’s left forearm wormed its way into Amber’s mind, causing her to shudder, grey-blue daggers darting to pierce Spike with another pointed glare. “Can I help you?” she growled.</p><p>Just as she sensed, Spike was holding her forearm gently in his left palm, lightly massaging her flesh with his fingertips, prodding for something that wasn’t there. “You wouldn’t be much help boarding the Red Tail onto the Bebop, not with these scrawny arms. You don’t even have any muscle.”</p><p>“I do so!” Out of sheer spite, she rolled up the sleeve of her oversized, pastel pink t-shirt, exposing her left bicep. There wasn’t much to gawk at — but her arm muscles were slightly larger than the average person’s.</p><p>Without thinking, Spike sneered. “Impressive,” he said, rolling his eyes.</p><p>Folding her arms over her chest, Amber shot him another scowl, shifting her attention toward Jet. “Anyway, I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to Jet. It is his ship after all —”</p><p>“It’s actually not his ship, well... not anymore.” The woman sitting on the kitchen counter, next to Jet, who was at the small coffee table Doohan kept around for himself and Miles, spoke up. She pushed her crimson sunglasses up over her forehead, perching them nicely on top of her headband. “The Red Tail is mine.”</p><p>Amber blinked at the woman. She looked a bit older than her — then again, looks were always proving to be deceiving, especially from where Amber stood. “And you are?”</p><p>Although she didn’t outrightly say it, Amber assumed the purple-haired lady was part of the Bebop crew as well, judging from the close proximity her and Jet were sitting in. But she could have been wrong about that, too.</p><p>“Faye Valentine, Little Miss Mechanic.” Faye’s blue-covered toes tapped against the checkered tiles of the small kitchen, crossing the floor with the clack of her slightly heeled boots hitting the floor with each step. “Nice to meet you.”</p><p>She stood almost a head taller than Amber, and was only a few centimetres shorter without boots on, of course.</p><p>Faye extended her hand out to Amber for the two girls to exchange a friendly handshake. Taken in by her beauty, Amber stayed where she was, staring up at Faye, completely stunned.</p><p>Remembering her manners, Amber struck her hand out, clapping Faye’s palm for a few seconds before withdrawing her hand back nervously to her side. “Y-yeah. Nice to meet you too, Miss Valentine.” She wasn’t sure how else to greet Faye.</p><p>Maybe sticking to just her first name? or would that be too rude? Though, she had called both Jet and Spike by their first names without a second thought.</p><p>Faye looked down at her, hands on her hips. “You’re the one who fixed my ship, right?”</p><p>Amber nodded shyly, picking at her cuticles. “Yes, ma’am.” She fought the urge to mock a military salute and click her heels together.</p><p>Faye circled Amber like a hawk, tipping the shorter girl’s chin back to meet her emerald green gaze as her lips quirked into another smile. “I like this kid,” she announced, hands on her perfectly toned hips. “I think we should bring her on board the Bebop.”</p><p>The only sound that could be heard in Doohan’s tiny kitchen were the cicada’s and the small portable television set crackling the latest Blue Sox game in the background.</p><p>The men blinked, Doohan leaning his arm lazily across the back of his chair, clutching a shiny bronze beer can between his bony fingers. Spike’s right eyebrow quirked, and Jet rose to his feet. Miles was too engrossed in the baseball game to care much for Faye’s outburst.</p><p>“What?” Jet asked, slamming his own can of whatever the hell he was drinking down on the table’s surface.</p><p>“I said —” Faye inhaled, but was interrupted by Spike.</p><p>“Oh, we heard you,” he said, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray laying in the centre of the table. “What makes you think we’d let you keep a pet?”</p><p>“Hey! I’m not an animal!” Amber pulled a face at the reference.</p><p>“Are you sure?” asked Spike. “You certainly yap like a chihuahua.”</p><p>Jet thumped Spike between the shoulders, coughing lightly into his fist to transition the topic. “No, we know that, Amber. But I do see Faye’s point —”</p><p>“So, you’re agreeing with me?” Faye jumped in, folding her arms over her chest as a satisfied grin slithered its way to her lips.</p><p>“I didn’t say that.” Jet settled back into his chair, drumming his prosthetic fingers against the table’s surface. “Besides, you told me you are working on Mars, right?”</p><p>Amber froze, hesitantly running a few fingers across the back of her neck, tentatively massaging her skin as she thought of an explanation that wasn’t an outright lie. “Actually, funny story... they said I could have some time off.”</p><p>Jet blinked pulling a face. She hadn’t told him that... but she also hadn’t told him where she worked. He sighed. Everyone had skeletons in their closet. His eyes set on Doohan for help.</p><p>The old man shrugged his shoulders, taking a few slow sips of his drink. “I don’t see why not. You can obviously work on your own... and I think I’m ready to let Miles take over some of the smaller projects in your stead.”</p><p>Miles’ neck nearly turned all the way around his shoulders, his eyes the size of dinner plates, lips spread in a wide grin he didn’t want to hide. “Really?!”</p><p>Doohan shot him a pointed look. “If you mess up once, you’re back to helping me fulltime.” It was a threat, but a small one.</p><p>Miles flashed his boss a charismatic thumbs up, mimicking a long forgotten blue hedgehog. “You can count on me!”</p><p>Doohan let a smile slip. “Glad to hear it.”</p><p>The Bebop crew turned back to one another, Spike and Faye focusing in on Jet for an answer.</p><p>“We don’t need another annoying kid on the team,” said Spike. “We just got rid of the last one.” He wouldn’t admit it, but mentioning Ed and Ein made his heart pang.</p><p>“Wouldn’t it be easier having a mechanic at our beck and call?” reasoned Faye. “Think about it, guys,” she talked as if Amber wasn’t in the room, “we wouldn’t have to come all the way to Venus just to get our engines fixed.”</p><p>Jet rubbed his bearded chin, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. “That’s a good point.” He was clearly hesitant to having another body living on the ship.</p><p>Although the Bebop was a fairly large spacecraft, the bedrooms were small. The living room where they watched the bounty hunting show, Big Shot, was roomy enough, but Jet wasn’t keen on having a stranger living in the next room over... Faye was a handful all on her own. He couldn’t bear to entertain the thought of two women living under the same roof.</p><p>However, Faye could. She wasn’t super big on the idea of another addition to the ship’s cargo hold — but she’d lived with four others nearly a year before, when Ed and Ein were added to the mix, so it wasn’t a big concern to her. Plus, Amber and her could go shopping together... and maybe become friends. Faye wasn’t holding her breath.</p><p>Spike inhaled sharply, jamming his left heel into the kitchen tiles, slightly tilting his chair back, muttering, “There are three things I hate —”</p><p>Jet grumbled the remainder of the sentence for him. “Kids, animals and women with attitude.”</p><p>Amber stepped up, clearing her throat. “Don’t I get a say in this?” Again, she looked to Jet. It was his ship after all.</p><p>Jet waved for her to say her piece.</p><p>“As much as I appreciate the offer, I don’t think I’m really welcome on the Bebop,” she admitted, glaring daggers at Spike. “Plus, they might want me back at my job soon.” She was lying. They wouldn’t ask for her back... not any time soon.</p><p>“Good point,” said Jet.</p><p>Faye turned back to Amber, contemplating about grabbing her hands as she’d seen girls do in movies, but opting for awkwardly standing with her hands at her sides. “Who cares what that fuzzy-haired guy thinks,” she said.</p><p>“And Jet’s point is moot as well?” Amber interjected.</p><p>Faye shook her head, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I think I can sway him.”</p><p>The guys stared back at them. Jet was permanently clueless, or so Amber thought, and Spike was as bitter and foulmouthed as the moment she’d met him.</p><p>A swivel jolted through Faye’s hips as the heels of her shoes lightly tapped against the floor, pivoting to face her two teammates. “I have a proposition for you,” she jabbed a finger in Jet’s face. “How about we keep Amber with us for three months and see how she fares. That way she has time to see if she likes living on the Bebop, and we have time to see if she’d make a good addition to our team. Does that sound fair?”</p><p>Jet and Spike exchanged an unreadable expression before turning back to face the girls. Doohan was looking at a newspaper that was outdated by two days, and Miles was watching the remainder of the Blue Sox game.</p><p>Slowly, Jet nodded, folding his arms over his chest as he agreed. “On one condition,” he turned to Amber, “One screw up, and it’s back here to Venus.”</p><p>“I’m not a little kid” Amber commented without missing a beat. A wry smile pressed her lips to follow. “But I think I can manage that.”</p><p>Another scowl plastered itself across Spike’s face as he let a disgruntled mutter slip, sliding another cigarette from his pocket and biting it between his teeth. He spoke around it, asking Doohan for a light. Doohan lit it and Spike sauntered outside toward the Bebop.</p><p>Faye patted Amber’s shoulder as she smiled at her. “Don’t worry about him. You’ve got to get packing.” She was ushering Amber to her room, hands on the shorter girl’s shoulders as she led the way down the hall.</p><p>The girls spent about an hour packing all the clothes and belongings Amber would need, under Faye’s guidance. She had been living on the Bebop for nearly a year and she was the closest thing Amber was going to get to advice for living in space.</p><p>“Ready?” Faye asked, not waiting for a response as she stepped back into the hall, making her own way to the kitchen.</p><p>“Are you girls ready yet?” called Jet from his seat.</p><p>His eyes were glued to the small television set. Some old show was playing this time, having run the Blue Sox matches dry for the day. It was a show neither Amber nor Faye recognized, and, quite frankly, neither of them cared. Faye was just glad to some a little bit of thrill in her life that didn’t involve bounty hunting, and Amber was just glad to get out of the garage... and as far away from NASA as possible.</p><p>Not like it was hard. Mars and Venus were pretty far away from each other, even with 2071 space travel under humanity’s belt, they still had a way to advancing fast travel between planets and advances when it came to building spacecrafts. Amber knew that better than anyone.</p><p>“All ready!” Faye announced as if she was the one in question.</p><p>Jet would have rolled his eyes if he’d given the girls his full attention. Instead, his brown eyes remained fixated on the glowing TV screen for a few seconds before he rose to his feet. “All right. Let’s get moving.”</p><p>Amber said goodbye to her former mentor and apprentice, giving Miles a tight hug and Doohan a formal handshake before the group disappeared in a flurry of whirling sand.</p><p>The team was greeted by bright lights when they entered through the front door of the Bebop, shielding their eyes from the sudden artificial illumination. Amber was the last to open her eyes as her ears pricked to the sounds of multiple footsteps walking off into different directions.</p><p>Black dots filling Amber’s vision, disappearing slowly, and she noticed the front foyer of the Bebop wasn’t much to look at. All of the inner walls were the same colour as the outside of the ship, obviously gray because it was unpainted metalwork. Amber glanced down at the floor as Faye beckoned her to follow. The floor was the same shade of gray as the walls, but with small ridged lines splitting the panels every couple of steps. Kind of like how sidewalk slabs are divided from one another.</p><p>Her feet moved quickly, following after Faye as her eyes scanned the walls caging them in, taking in the numerous ventilation fans lining the walls and glancing up to catch a glimpse of the airduct across the ceiling.</p><p>The two passed the kitchen and the living room, where Amber saw a small TV set, similar to the one in Doohan’s garage, but techier. Jet was in one of the side rooms trimming one of his many bonsai trees as he noticed the girls pass by.</p><p>He dipped his head out of the small alcove. “Where are you taking her, Faye?”</p><p>“Relax, I’m just showing her around the ship before taking her to where she’ll be sleeping.”</p><p>Before Jet could say anymore, the girls were gone, vanishing into the cargo-hold where there was nothing but an uncountable number of unopened cardboard boxes. Amber wondered what was inside them but didn’t take the time to question Faye.</p><p>The tour of the ship started in the foyer and ended at Faye’s bedroom door. Before disappearing for the remainder of the late afternoon, Faye shoved a bundle of blankets and a couple of pillows into Amber’s arms, saying there were extras in one of the cargo boxes in the cargo-hold if she needed them. It could get pretty cold in the living room.</p><p>“Sorry,” Faye’s passed her a sympathetic look along with the bundle. “We don’t have any more bedrooms to spare.”</p><p>Amber offered her a small smile in return. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Believe me, I’ve slept in much worse. The Bebop’s living room will be like a castle compared to the bunker I was crammed into back on Mars —”</p><p>Amber paused, catching herself only when she’d reached the end of her sentence. Her eyes widened slightly as Faye quirked an eyebrow. Reaching her right hand up to tousle her hair, Amber laughed off her own comment.</p><p>“Bunker?” she questioned herself. “Did I say bunker? I meant the space station headquarters’ bunk rooms.”</p><p>It was an obvious lie, but Faye didn’t seem to notice. Then again, she only knew that Amber used to work for an unnamed exploration company and that it was located on Mars, she didn’t even know the name, and really didn’t care enough to ask.</p><p>Passing Amber’s sudden change in attitude off as lack of oxygen, or general fatigue, Faye brushed it off. “Well, why don’t you go unpack your bag. I’ve got some things to do anyway. Then you can install a new communication system in the Red Tail if you want to, okay?”</p><p>It was more of a demand than Faye had intended, but Amber didn’t seem to mind.</p><p>“Okay,” Amber agreed. “I’ll come back here in a couple of hours.” She turned on the balls of her feet and walked back to the living room.</p><p>Once she was there, she stared down at the backpack she’d stuffed with clothes and grimaced at the toolbox leaning against it. There wasn’t any sense in unpacking what few belongings she had, since there wasn’t much; mostly clothes and her tools that she only needed whenever she would be working on the Swordfish or the Red Tail. So, she did the only thing she could think of. Wrapping the blankets Faye had given her around herself, she plopped down onto the floor and watched the stars as the Bebop slowly passed by them, drifting endlessly through the Milky Way Galaxy.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I didn't know how to end the chapter, so you all get my garbage</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Quickly. Hurry up, Amber, before someone sees.” The man in the white lab coat danced around the final corner, checking to see if the coast was clear before beckoning his follower forward. </p><p>“I’m coming, Jason, jeez!” Amber growled, making sure to keep her voice low as she dipped her head around the corner.</p><p>It was strange. </p><p>As the brunette tossed her head from side to side, her low ponytail fell limp over her left shoulder, the small hairs on the back of her neck standing up. </p><p>Everything around them was tinged green. Amber could see her own feet tapping softly against the titles of the old building, dashing after the lab worker. But she was observing the seen from an outsider’s perspective. </p><p>She could see everything in the hallway; the black security cameras — which had been switched off — and the single door standing by itself in the lonely hallway. </p><p>When she reached Jason’s side, he tapped his I.D. card against the security system flanking the door’s right side. He ushered Amber inside in front of himself, and, with one swift brush of his brown eye across the otherwise empty hallway, he dipped his head inside, carefully shutting the door behind them. </p><p>“What is it you were so eager to see back here?” Jason asked, making sure Amber stayed behind him. Nobody aside from the NASA administrator herself and lab team were allowed into the research facility... especially not engineers.  </p><p>Amber thought about keeping quiet about what she overheard the evening before, but her irritation was growing. As she flexed her fingers, she bit her bottom lip, looking into her friend’s eyes. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” she blurted, disdain filling her blue gaze. </p><p>Jason turned on his heels, pressing the pale flesh of his palms into Amber’s shoulders. “What are you talking about?” His gaze turned sharp and she winced, sucking in a small breath of air, realization crashing down on her like a wave. </p><p>“You knew... didn’t you —” </p><p>His hand clapped across Amber’s mouth as Jason tried to hush her. He begged her not to speak for fear one of the other workers would hear her, but she pried his hand from her mouth and hissed at him like a kicked cat. </p><p>“You knew — and you didn’t — you didn’t....” She slapped her palms against his chest, balling them into fists as she sobbed. </p><p>Amber wanted to back away, but she couldn’t. This was a dream. She knew it was. She slapped her face.</p><p> Wake up. </p><p>Wake up. </p><p>Wake up! </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p>“Hey, sleepyhead,” Faye called, large green eyes gazing down at the sleeping girl. “Are you going to sleep all day?” </p><p>Rubbing her eyes, Amber slowly pulled herself to her knees, glancing around as she surveyed the Bebop’s living room. When her neck craned to look outside. She found herself glaring into the brightness of the sun. </p><p>She had been on the Bebop for only three days, but she had grown accustomed to seeing nothing but stars every morning, afternoon and evening. While floating through space, it was impossible to tell what time of day or night it was. </p><p>Realizing she was safe, Amber’s racing heart slowed. She stretched a little and caught sight of the bright sun glittering down on the ship again. “It’s warm,” she commented. </p><p>“Well, duh,” Faye called as she took the stairs two at a time, dipping her head into the kitchen. “You’ve seen the sun before, haven’t you?” She was obviously joking. </p><p>Amber just ignored her quip, scratching the exposed skin of her lower back, getting to her feet. She sniffed the air, catching the scent of something sweet. “Let me guess,” she called to Faye, “bell peppers and beef again?” </p><p>She chuckled at the simple dish Jet often served, to Spike and Faye’s dismay, there was never any beef involved. In fact, until Amber came along, the crew hadn’t been gifted the savoury taste of meat in nearly three months. </p><p>“No,” said Faye, carrying two plates full of feed back into the living room. She placed the food down on the end table in front of the small TV the Bebop crew kept in their sorry excuse for a living room. “It’s curry,” she said as the plate slid across the table. </p><p>Amber cupped her palms against the thin edges of the plate to stop it from sliding, and sat down, happily taking the spoon Faye gave her. She wasn’t a huge fan of curry — she didn’t even like rice — but she knew it was better than going hungry. </p><p>As the two girls were eating, Faye flicked on the small television set sitting in front of them — Amber shifted to lean her back against the edge of the couch so she could get a better view of the TV. Faye’s thumb flicked one of the buttons on the remote and the TV screen lit up with a dull background and two actors — a man and a woman wearing cowboy attire — came to life before their eyes. </p><p>Every morning since Amber had, the three of them would settle in front of the TV, or in the kitchen... or in the Bonsai Tree Room, as Amber dubbed it, to see what latest bounty lay waiting for them. </p><p>Amber knew enough about Big Shot to understand that it was a show flashing outlaws, and she rarely paid any attention as the unfamiliar faces of space pirates and other criminals dipped in and out of her line of sight. She cupped her left cheek in her hand, dipping the tip of her spoon into the steaming curry. </p><p>“Anything good?” she asked Faye as her eyes shifted. She didn’t even have to look to know the other girl’s eyes were glued to the TV screen. Amber spoke as if she were a bounty hunter herself, but she was the farthest thing from it. </p><p>Faye slapped her right palm on the table, spooning curry into her mouth with her left. “Nothing but chump change,” she answered. </p><p>Amber smirked at the common phrased used between bounty hunters. Usually the term “chump change” was to express a bounty that didn’t offer a high reward. She noticed Faye used it a lot. She dipped her head to spoon a small bit of curry into her mouth. “Where did Jet and Spike go?” </p><p>Glancing away from the TV for a few seconds, Faye’s eyes lit up, remembering something. “Oh, yeah! Spike said he wanted you to meet him in one of the towns not too far from here. He said to bring your tools, too — something about engine trouble. I need my ship today, but you can walk there pretty quickly.” She handed Amber a piece of paper with directions scribbled on the surface, finished the last of her curry and hurried off toward the Bebop’s hold. </p><p>As the whooshing of the Redtail’s engine went in one ear and out the other, Amber sat in the living room, jaw slack. Bits of rice fell from Amber’s lips as she sighed, slumping her back against the couch and holding the crumpled piece of scrap paper against the new beams of sunlight shining through one of the many bay windows of the Bebop. “I can barely read this....” </p><p> </p><p>~<br/>
Short brown leather boots scuffled against the pavement as the sun shone down on Amber. She placed her hand in front of her eyes, squinting to get a better look at the town standing a few hundred feet away from her. </p><p>When her toes reached the town, she looked around, her grip tightening against the handle of her toolbox. The streets were crowded with people and stalls lining the perimeters of the dirty walkways. </p><p>It reminded her a bit of her hometown back on Earth, but far more crowded and less ruined farmland. </p><p>Amber wasn’t much for crowds, but she had a job to do. Taking a deep breath, she sauntered into the thicket of people, keeping her toolbox tightly pressed against her side, fingers clutching the handle like her life depended on it. </p><p>She whisked through the multiple alleyways and cluttered streets, stepping over people sitting on the floor and talking to friends, weaving her way through the tightly knit crowds. </p><p>Being cooped up inside the Bebop without human contact for several hours was one thing — Amber could handle a little bit of alone time — navigating a foreign city was another level. </p><p>Glancing down at the poorly drawn map again, she bit her bottom lip and whimpered. </p><p>Did she take a wrong turn? Was there supposed to be a fountain in front of her? </p><p>She turned the map slightly to the right. </p><p>Or maybe it was supposed to go this way? </p><p>She didn’t know. </p><p>Panicking, her eyes darted back and forth at the strangers paying no mind to her, insides squirming as she fought back the urge to scream for help. She felt like a lost kid in a store searching for their parent. </p><p>The next thing Amber felt was the sensation of skin brushing the back of her neck, and long, bony fingers lacing themselves between strands of her hair. She froze, too afraid to shift her gaze even a fraction in the direction of the heavy breathing in her ear. </p><p>“Hey, baby,” said the low, husky voice of a stranger. “Are you lost?” </p><p>Her shoulders stiffened as his breath hit her nose. He didn’t smell of alcohol or any type of drug... then again, she probably wouldn’t be able to recognize the smell of any drug other than weed.<br/>
Swallowing, she answered. “Yeah, I am, actually. Can you help me?” </p><p>She didn’t dare look at him. But out of the side of her left eye, she could tell he was tall, muscular and was wearing a black fitted tank top and a pair of deep blue jeans. </p><p>“Sure, doll face,” he smiled. “Where would you like to go?” His hip bumped hers and she took a step to the right. </p><p>“On second thought, I can find it myself,” she responded curtly, inching away from the stranger. </p><p>When she finally met his gaze, she noticed his skin was pale and his eyes were a deep brown. He had choppy bangs and his hair parted in the middled, well, all until her ran his fingers through it. </p><p>He wore a lopsided grin across his gaunt face. Amber figured he wasn’t much older than herself, maybe a year or two... or perhaps he was younger — she didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out the answer. </p><p>“How about you come to my place?” His eyes lowered, fixating on her bright red toolbox for a brief moment before they lowered to inspect her scarred knees and muddy boots. “What are you, some kind of farmer?” </p><p>“Not exactly,” she answered honestly, wanting to slap herself as soon as the words came out. “Thanks for offering to help, but I think I can manage on my own.” </p><p>Just as she was about to turn on her heels and run away, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her back. The toolbox slapped Amber hard against her bare thigh and she scowled, fighting back the urge to elbow the guy in the ribs. </p><p>“Hey! Let me go!” she snapped, turning to face her assailant. </p><p>“Ooh,” he purred. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” He leaned in closer, their noses almost touching. “Why don’t you say we have some fun?” </p><p>“Forget it, blockhead!” she growled, stabbing the heel of her boot onto his bare toes. </p><p>He recoiled back, swearing as he bent down to nurse his injured foot. “You bitch!” </p><p>Just as she was about to give him a piece of her mind, another palm clapped against her left shoulder, pulling her back. </p><p>“Don’t fucking touch me!”<br/>
In the same motion as she spun on her heels, she raised her right hand, forming a tight fist. Mid-swing, the power in her punch met resistance in the form of a cool, swift motion. The fluidity caught her by surprise and she instantly recognized who she was just about to sock in the mouth. </p><p>“Nice punch, but you need to be a little bit faster.” Spike grinned at Amber’s reddening cheeks. His eyes shifted in the same breath. His eyebrows fell, furrowing in the center of his forehead as Amber noticed lines creasing his brow, face hardening in contempt. “What are you looking at?” </p><p>The guy who had been bothering Amber held his hands up in surrender, palms facing Spike to show he meant no harm. “Easy, man. I didn’t realize she was spoken for.” </p><p>Spike let Amber free of his grasp and she rounded on him. Slapping a palm onto the same shoulder, he pulled her against his chest, covering her mouth with his free hand as a forced smile pressed his lips. </p><p>“She’s not my girlfriend,” Spike said, injecting venom into his reply. A vein throbbed in his forehead. “She’s my mechanic.” </p><p>The guy’s eyebrows knitted together in the centre of his forehead as he took a cautious step back, hands slowly drooping to his sides. “I didn’t mean any harm —” </p><p>“Try telling her that,” Spike bit back in a snarl. “Maybe you should apologize —” </p><p>“Fine! Fine! I’m sorry, okay.” He turned to Amber, bowing his head. </p><p>Amber said nothing, removing Spike’s palm from her mouth as she told the guy to get out of her sight. He rushed off, disappearing into sea of people bustling around the street. </p><p>“Where’s the Swordfish?” Amber asked, turning to glance at Spike over her shoulder. She’d set her toolbox down on the ground next to his feet and was tying her hair into a low ponytail. </p><p>Spike blinked, taken slightly aback by her hostility and annoyance. But he knew Amber’s salty attitude wasn’t directed toward him, so he brushed it off, jabbing a thumb in the direction of his ship. Amber stomped over to the red and black-accented ship.</p><p>She stopped beside it, dropping her toolbox next to her feet and running her hand along the right wing of the spacecraft. “And what’s wrong with the engine — Why are you staring at me like that?” Glancing over her shoulder, Amber was forced to do a double take. </p><p>When Amber lifted her toolbox off the ground and placed it gently onto the Swordfish’s wing, she rested her right arm against the cool metal of the ship. Spike blinked, unsure of how to respond. </p><p>“It keeps saying it’s running out of fuel, but I just filled it up about an hour ago.” She expected to say more, but he didn’t. </p><p>Glancing back at the Swordfish, he stayed quiet. Amber shrugged and turned to face the ship. Placing her hands on the outer rim of the cockpit, she told Spike to give her a boost. </p><p>“You can’t lift yourself up?” Amber was surprised that he didn’t have a smug grin plastered across his stupidly handsome face. </p><p>Instead of snapping at him, she sighed, shaking her head. “No, I can’t. If you don’t want the wing of your precious Swordfish to get dirty, give me a boost.” </p><p>“All right.” Spike grabbed her leg and practically threw her into the cockpit of the Swordfish. </p><p>“Ow!” </p><p>“Sorry.” </p><p>Rubbing the top of her head, Amber asked him to pass her a screwdriver. Screwdriver in hand, she pressed the head of it into one of the screws dotting the perimeter of the computer’s panel. Her fingers worked quickly, removing the flimsy frame from the metal surface. </p><p>Spike leaned against the edge of the cockpit, watching Amber as she worked. “Hey! What are you doing?! Put that back —” </p><p>“Gloves.” </p><p>“What — No — put the frame back on, it’s going to get covered in dirt —” </p><p>“Not if you pass me my gloves it won’t.” </p><p>Glaring at her, Spike begrudgingly handed Amber a pair of beige gloves. “Thank you,” she chirped. </p><p>Folding his arms over his chest, Spike decided it was better not to watch her destroy his ship. “What are you doing anyway? The computer isn’t the engine. Even I know that.” </p><p>“I know,” Amber replied, disconnecting a few of the wires.” She held up the ends, noting the frayed edges. “When was the last time you got these wires replaced?” She glanced at him over her shoulder, rolling her eyes at the back of his head. </p><p>Shrugging, Spike thought for a moment, wracking his brain for an answer. “I don’t know,” he answered. “Maybe a few months ago. Why?” </p><p>Amber tapped his shoulder, tugging at the wires and thumbing at the frayed edges. “They’re breaking.” </p><p>Spike’s lips pressed into a frown as leaned into his ship, pouting at the red and blue wires. His brown eyes lifted, meeting Amber’s blue. “Can you replace them? Or fix them?” </p><p>“Electrical tape — it’s black — should be in the upper right corner — there it is. Thanks.” Take the roll of tape, she wrapped each frayed end and snipped off any excess piece with a pair of scissors. “This’ll hold it together for a while, but you’ll have to buy new wires soon.” </p><p>Grumbling, Spike thanked her for the temporary fix... although, he could have done that himself. He didn’t think to check the computer. </p><p>Amber didn’t want to sound rude, but she had a habit of talking to people like they were stupid. Her jaw dropped, then closed. Spike watched as her tongue touched the roof of her mouth, be her lips closed, pressing together. Her eyebrows dipped and she glanced back at the computer as she screwed it back into place. </p><p>“What is it?” Spike urged, eyes flickering to watch her hands. </p><p>Amber glanced from the computer to Spike, picking at her cuticles as she slipped her gloves off and stuffed them into the back pocket of her pants. “You know the computer is the heart of the ship, right?” </p><p>Spike quirked an eyebrow. </p><p>“It’s connected to the engine. If the wiring inside it’s faulty, the engine will malfunction, even if there’s nothing specifically wrong with the engine itself.” She nervously scratched as her palms. </p><p>Spike nodded slowly, taking in her words. He did know that, but he didn’t want to admit he was too distracted to think clearly. “Thanks.” </p><p>Amber lifted her head. “For what?” </p><p>“Fixing the wires.” </p><p>She pressed her lips together, dropping the screwdriver onto the ground. “I mean, that’s what I’m here for.” Rising to her feet, she pressed the heels of her palms to the rim of the Swordfish, preparing herself up, and out of the ship. But Spike stopped her. </p><p>“I can lift you out if you need if you want.” His hands gripped her forearms. </p><p>Amber couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Shrugging, she nodded her head. Surprised at her straightforward answer, Spike placed her hands onto his shoulders and grabbed her waist, lowering her onto the ground. </p><p>“I always knew you two kids would get along,” said a deep voice.<br/>
Growling, Spike looked to his left, scowling at his friend and partner in bounty hunting, Jet Black. “Shut up, Jet!” he barked. </p><p>“Kid?” Amber questioned aloud. She frowned, realizing their mistake. “Uh... how old do you two think I am?” </p><p>Jet and Spike stared at her for a few seconds before answering. Spike’s answer was impulsive. Amber expected what he was going to say. </p><p>“Eighteen.” </p><p>Jet took a little bit longer to answer, but Amber kept eye contact until he did. “Late teens, maybe early twenties. Why? How old are you?” </p><p>Amber paused before answer. She was way too used to people incorrectly guessing her age. She blamed it on her height. “I’m turning twenty-five next month,” she said.</p>
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